


Beer for Breakfast

by sandstonepebbles



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Jesse McCree is a mess, M/M, Pining, Post-Recall, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 16:43:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15889992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandstonepebbles/pseuds/sandstonepebbles
Summary: Jesse is surviving day to day as a fugitive. It's not good for him.





	Beer for Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> Rated T for language.
> 
> Hope you like this story!

“Are you okay?” Fareeha barked into his ear.

Jesse leaned heavily against the door frame, hitching his boxers higher on his hips. It was barely six in the morning and Jesse was finding that early hours were wearing hard on him. Then again, he’d survived a fight on a train just the other day. Christ, he was getting too damn old for this crap. “I’m fine,” he lied.

“I saw what happened on the train.”

“Oh yeah, that.” What time was it in Cairo, he wondered. And Fareeha had that security job with Helix. “That was a couple of days ago.”

He was now holed up in an empty Houston apartment an old colleague from Overwatch had offered him. Jesse could stay until the painters came in three days. He’d hit the road long before then.

“It was all over the news.”

Great. The bounty on his head was probably higher now or failing that, there’d be more bounty hunters on his tail. “Surprised you’d hear about that little dust-up all the way in Egypt.”

He grabbed a can from the 30-pack of beer he’d bought yesterday. Nothing like a cold beer for breakfast.

“Jesse, you’re not drinking --”

“It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

“Look, you can’t keep living like this. I can pull some strings. Helix could use a person like you --”

“Darlin’, no one you know could get me out of this. Maybe Jack could’ve, but he ain’t around.” The cold beer can stung Jesse’s hand. “Hell, I haven’t been able to figure out who put that bounty on my head or drummed up those charges.”

“It isn’t right,” she insisted. Sounded just like her ma when Fareeha talked like that. Another person he loved lost. Like Gabe in that damn explosion.

He shouldn’t have answered this old communicator when he heard it ring. But it was either Fareeha calling or Winston. And he sure missed Fareeha. It was too risky to talk all that often, someone was bound to track him down this way. Guess she was too worried about him to use other methods other than the direct one.

“That’s just the way it is,” Jesse replied. At this rate, he was gonna need another beer. 

“Sam could put you up for a bit. No one will look for you there.”

“Don’t get your dad involved in my problems. He’s got it tough already.” He shouldn’t have told her about how he spent last Christmas getting drunk under the table by some Los Muertos hacker. Bad decision to go to seedy bar in Dorado, worse decision to let the woman talk him into a fancy liquor he’d never heard of. He sure the hell knew better and Gabe would have chewed his ass out for such a rookie mistake. Fareeha immediately insisted that he spend all the holidays up in Yukon with the ex-UN peacekeeper. 

“First the train, then that weird business in Hanamura at the noodle place. What are you up to, Jesse?” Then Fareeha dropped her voice, like that would have stopped anyone who was listening in. “Did you get the recall?”

“I’ve got to go. We’ve talked long enough. I’ll call in a couple of months.” He clicked off the communicator. 

He owed Fareeha a lot. She’d moved heaven and earth to fix him up when he’d lost part of his arm a few years back, when he hadn’t realized how much danger he was in. And she’d risked too much to even do that. He wasn’t going to land her in more trouble by talking about the Recall. Or that he’d heard from Winston.

The Recall message woke him straight out of the best sleep he’d had in a few months, only to hear Winston’s earnest voice talking Overwatch.

Jesse downed the beer, crumpled the can and tossed it in the corner. The world was going to pot right fast and he didn’t like what he was seeing at all. But that didn’t mean that the world needed Overwatch back again in any way. He wondered if Genji answered the recall, wherever he was or whatever frame of mind he was in. Jesse had long given up trying to figure out Genji.

After getting another beer, he sat in the lawn chair he’d set up in the kitchen and turned on his phone to see the news. Nothing new -- a short blurb about the train attack and the sighting of wanted criminal Jesse McCree, more corporate shenanigans from Vishkar, the usual. 

And well, look at that. Someone who looked a lot like a super-genius gorilla wearing glasses stopping a terrorist attack. With a woman wearing a jacket, goggles and a chronal accelerator.

Jesse sunk lower in his seat. That damn fool Lena had got up to something with Winston, which couldn’t be good in any way possible. He watched the news footage and caught the gleam of chrome and a green neon flash. Where the hell had Lena and Winston found an omnic like that? He couldn’t remember any Overwatch omnic agent -- he knew that there had been some but no names came to mind.

He should have another beer before he hit the road. Winston’s stupid stunt, even if it was successful, was bound to remind everyone about the train thing and that Jesse McCree, ex-Blackwatch agent, was at large.

~~~

Jesse settled back into his comfy seat in the back of the truck. It wasn’t all that hard from him to get around when he wanted to. A promise of protection from possible danger was always a ticket to a train or tractor trailer or cargo transport.

He had no destination in mind except Not Texas. Not like he was going to Gibraltar or any place like that. 

He’d stupidly gone to Hanamura chasing ghosts and found the same thing he could find in any hotel room in the US -- nothing. He’d find other ghosts in Gibraltar and nothing he wanted. He could look up Torbjorn or Angela or Rein if he wanted to and he could always find Gabe under the grass in Los Angeles. 

The truck dropped him off in St. Louis and he had no idea what to do with himself. Except to check into a no-tell hotel and buy a 30-pack. 

In Cairo -- which might as well be on another planet -- Fareeha worried about him. Worried about how much he was drinking, if he was getting sleep, if he was safe. Honestly, he should be glad he had a little sister looking out for him.

Ana would be mostly glad about how Fareeha turned out. Happy that Fareeha had grown up strong and caring, a lost less happy about her working security for Helix. Too close to soldier work and Ana hadn’t wanted her daughter to end up like that.

Jesse should make the effort to see her. But if he made it to Cairo, he could just as easily turn up on Angela’s doorstep. He reckoned that Angela had all the answers he wanted. 

Six am and he cracked his beer and thought long and hard about why he hadn’t followed up with Angela at all when Genji left. She was one of the closest people to Genji. Probably the closest. Jesse had thought he might be but turned out that was just one of many delusions he had. Like Blackwatch doing good work, that Gabe hadn’t been corrupted, that Jesse was one of the good guys, that Genji Shimada might have feelings for Jesse.

He’d held onto his Blackwatch communicator when he left. Glad he did since that was his best link to Fareeha. Not glad to see another message from Winston.

Except that this was not a message from Winston.

“Angie?” he asked.

“I don’t have time. Did you talk with Winston?” she said. 

“Nice to hear from you too, Dr. Ziegler.”

“I’m calling from behind a pile of supplies in a tent. I’ll get into big trouble if the authorities find out that I called you.”

Right. Focus. “Recall only. I’ve been, um, hanging up on him.”

“Watch out for a Talon agent named Reaper -- he might have your location and he’s been known to kill Overwatch agents on sight.”

Jesse sighed. Just one more to add to the huge heap of people out for his head. “That ain’t any news for me.”

“Winston worries.”

“That’s nice.”

“I do too.” 

“That’s nice too. Hey, have you heard from Shimada? No particular reason but --”

There was a half a minute of screechy static. Angela whispered, “I have to go. Stay safe, Jesse.” Click and she was gone.

Not enough beer in the world for this nonsense. He’d have to change up his traveling plans, watch his ass even more closely, thinking about lying low somewhere off the grid. He’d done it before. 

He started packing up his few belongings. Better to get on the road now in case he’d been made. He pondered what Angela told him. Wait, that Lost Muertos hacker, if that’s what she was, asked him about Reaper. He’d never heard of him before. And now Angela worried enough to actually contact him in over five years.

Throwing his backpack over his shoulder, Jesse would think about that more some other time. First the road. Then maybe food. Then maybe sleep. 

~~~~~

After criss-crossing through the Southwest, Jesse landed in San Francisco. He needed the rest for his aching body. He’d had a few fights, heard too much about Reaper to sleep easy at night, and survived a close call with some kid trying to make a name for himself.

Jesse found the bed too soft and the room too quiet for his taste in yet another cheap hotel. He should write a book on places to stay when you’re on the lam. He’d definitely rate this place a five on the scale.

It was exactly the sort of place that Genji always managed to sniff out when they had to hide out on Blackwatch missions. They’d stay up all hours talking shit about stuff. And when Genji wasn’t too angry and hurt, he was funny as hell and interesting to boot. Jesse washed the pain down with his breakfast beer. It hurt too much to remember, come to think of it. He was better off putting all that behind him.

Jesse planned on staying for a week, sending a message to Fareeha that he was alive, and thinking about his next steps. He’d need money soon. He’d have to rustle up some work, whether writing or through fighting. 

He stood in line at the corner store, listening to a woman negotiating a sandwich order with the owner. The owner had left the news on. Stopped Jesse in his tracks. Not Winston or Tracer this time -- it was that green and chrome omnic again. Footage showed him wall-crawling and tracking down a wanted criminal. The sort of thing that Winston’s rogue team would get behind. 

Might have to lie even lower if the New Overwatch was going to be all over the news. He paid for his groceries and headed back to his hotel. 

He was being followed. He felt it more than knew it, being all second nature to him now. The only problem he had was that he didn’t want to lost his groceries in a fight. That’s what he’s come to in life -- trading bodily injury so that he could get a bag of bread, peanut butter, sushi and cookies back to his room safely.

Gun loose in his holster, he picked his way carefully through the streets, stealing glances at rooftops and window ledges, checking alleys and streets before crossing. Whoever was following him had perfect cover -- he never caught a single glimpse from the store to his door.

Jesse didn’t like the feeling of being watched. Now ordinarily, he’d be packing up to go. But he liked was he had settled and he was tired of running. He sat in the window, puffing on his cigarillo, studying dark storefronts, crowded late night bar, and the cars passing on the street. Nothing to be seen.

Too old for this shit, he thought as he stubbed out the cigarillo on a dish. He’d put the gun next to him in the bed in case he got a surprise visitor while he slept. Not that he’d sleep all that great. 

~~~~~

Jesse wasn’t going to find out whoever was following him by staying in his room. He risked it going to a local diner for breakfast. No questions asked and lots of coffee and hash browns with his omelet. He’d prefer to sit at the counter. But not a good idea to sit with your back to the front door, anything can happen.

Sitting in a strategically located booth didn’t save Jesse. An omnic in a hoodie slid into his booth.

“Excuse me?” Jesse pointed asked, his fingers already reaching for his gun.

“Is that how you greet all your old friends?” the old familiar electronic-tinged voice said.

Shocked, Jesse sat back in the booth, a smile starting to creep across his face. “Really. Genji Shimada of all people.” Now it all made sense, Winston’s green and chrome omnic was Genji after all. That answered one of Jesse’s questions about the Recall.

Genji pushed back his hood and reached up to take off his face mask. Still the same -- all the same scars, same brown eyes, same thick black hair and eyebrows, except with little wisps of grey mixed in. Goddamn, Genji was a sight for sore eyes. 

“The chrome and the neon are kind of flashy,” Jesse blurted out.

Genji laughed. A real laugh, not marked with sarcasm or bitterness. Jesse could get used to the sound real fast. “I was kind of flashy once. This armor fits better -- the Shambali helped me with it.”

“Sounds like a story.”

“Not here. I’m not the only one following you.”

~~~~~

Jesse couldn’t quite believe that he was clinking beer cans in a toast with Genji in a run-down hotel room in San Francisco. But his dreams were never that good so it had to be real. They’d talked for an hour already with no signs of slowing down. He could sit there for hours just to drink in Genji, his travels, his new found smiles and peace. Jesse never thought he’d ever have this again.

“Drink up,” Jesse said.

Genji looked down at the beer in his hand. “I’m glad to know that your poor taste in beer hasn’t changed at all.”

“Hey, now. That’s the highest quality beer I could get for under $25 in a 30-pack.” He meet Genji’s eyes and they smiled and then they laughed. “We’re drinking at 9 am too.”

Genji leaned forward to put his hands on Jesse’s knees. “I’m sorry --”

“You don’t have to apologize. Life happens.”

“It’s not --” Genji touched Jesse’s prosthetic. “Life has not been kind to you.”

Jesse rubbed the back of his neck. “Could have happened any time. I zigged when I should have zagged. So what about the other people --”

“Talon. Low level agents.”

“Ah.” Jesse slumped a little. “Guess that’s par for the course.”

Genji beeped a few times. “That’s our ride,” he said. 

“What?” Jesse said to Genji now standing and texting back to someone. It was little odd seeing Genji tapping away on his arm, but with new armor came new tricks.

“I’ve come to take you home. Let me.” His fingers slid into Jesse’s hair as he leaned forward to press chapped lips to Jesse, already melting into the kiss. 

“Home,” Jesse repeated breathlessly.

“Still got it after all these years,” Genji joked. His fingers still tangled in Jesse’s hair as he smiled fondly at him. “There’s an orca waiting for us.”

“I didn’t say --”

“Your life is in danger -- Angela and Fareeha told me to get you. I want you to be safe. We’ll be safe at Gibraltar. I’m not saying you have to join the Recall or anything. But let me -- let us -- look after you. I can do that now, to make up for all the times you did for me.”

“Genji --”

But Genji was already pulling Jesse to his feet. “We’ll be late. Do you want to take anything with you?”

Dazed, Jesse packed his backpack and was swept along in Genji’s wake as the cyborg headed out into the morning sun. Out in the street, in the crowd, Genji took his hand. 

“It’s going to be great, Jesse.”

“Right.” Jesse took a deep breath. “Fine, I’m going home.”

“With me,” Genji stated

“With you.”


End file.
